All They Want
by CatJetRat
Summary: Sam and Dean have been torn apart by their mutual desire to save each other. Is there any way they can find their way back to what they were? Hints of Wincest, though no actual slash. Spoilers through 420.


**A/N:** So the name of this fanfiction is: Eric Kripke's a Douchebag. Lol. Jk. Kind of. Let's just say last night's episode…well, it was very...upsetting. Anyway, this is my consolation to myself. It's Wincest, in my opinion, because I think Wincest is cannon based on how the characters are written. Let's just label it pre-slash, because this chapter has no sexual content in it. Oh yes, and let me know if I should continue this. Much love!

-CatJetRat

**Chapter 1**

**All They Want**

**Dean's POV**

Dean doesn't want to live forever. He doesn't want kids. He doesn't want a wife. He just wants this.

He used to think he did want a wife and kids. A family. One of his own, one that his dad couldn't screw up.

He doesn't think that anymore. He knows he can never have a family, because he could never leave Sam behind.

When he was little, he used to think that when he got married, he would just take Sam with him. The thought of living without Sam had never even occurred to him. Sam was his little brother, and his responsibility. Separating from him would kind of ruin the point. Up until he was twenty-two years old, Dean never thought about being away from Sam at all. Then, in the spring of Sam's senior year, Sam and Dad had a fight. And Sam said he was leaving. He had a full ride to Stanford. And Dad said that as long as he was going, now was as good a time as ever. And Sam had said fine, and left. Dean caught up with him halfway down the block, and for the first time in his life, Dean left Dad, and stayed with Sam until he graduated. But Sam had left anyway.

Dean had been stuck, alone, for three years, puttering around, trying to find something to do with his life that would enable him to have a family. But hunting…that was in his blood. No woman he'd met could handle that, and even if Dean decided to go the other way, there were very few men who could handle it either.

Then Sammy had come back, and his life had been given meaning again. The food tasted better, hunting was more fulfilling, women looked prettier—all in all Dean's life was a hundred times better knowing that his brother was with him indefinitely. That was the reason he couldn't let Sam die. Everything else was meaningless if his brother wasn't in his life. Everything. And Sam was so much better than him, always had been. Smarter, kinder, stronger, taller…. He deserved to live much more than Dean did. So Dean sold his soul, and went to hell for Sam. He endured torture for thirty years, and the pain of being a torturer for ten more. And even right after he got out, he would do it all over again for Sam. He felt no regret as he sought out his brother shortly after being pulled out of hell by Castiel.

Wrapping his arms around his brother felt like coming home again, and Dean was left with no regrets as he felt Sam's heart beating beneath his, knowing that he was alive, and getting laid by a hot chick, no less! His brother meant more to him than anything. Of course he went to hell for him. To be able to see him again and hold him, it all made it that much more worth it.

Perhaps this is why Dean is so angry now. Staring at his brother who has demon, _demon_ blood dripping down his lips. Dean sold his soul so that Sam could live and be the beautiful boy Dean knows he is. And this? This is what Sam has done with Dean's gift?

Maybe it's selfish to feel this way. Perhaps Dean has no right to tell Sam how to live his life. But damn it, they're family! Family are allowed to be nosy and intrusive, and fucking stop each other from doing stupid shit!

Dean barely sees as Sam exorcises a demon effortlessly. Of course that's why his powers are all screwy. It makes perfect sense. Kind of.

Two days later, after a covert phone call to Bobby, and a long-overdue intervention, Dean sits outside Bobby's panic room for the second night in a row, face in hands, listening to the sounds of Sam's withdrawal symptoms. It takes all the strength Dean has to not run in and wrap his arms around Sam, rocking him back and forth like he's a baby again.

"Dean?"

Dean roughly shoves the tears from his eyes and stands to face Bobby, who's eyeing him with a great deal of unwanted pity.

"Dean, come on. This isn't helping you or Sam. Now come on and get some sleep, boy. Sam'll go through this whether you're here or not. You don't need to listen to it and tear yourself up inside. Trust me." Bobby's tone leaves no room for argument, and Dean nods wearily.

"You're right, Bobby. I just….I don't want to leave him." Dean's voice breaks slightly.

"Dean. You can sit out here all night again if you want, or you can get some sleep and tomorrow start help me figure out how to stop Lilith, so that idgit in there—" Bobby gestured at the panic room, "—won't have the excuse that he's doing this to defeat her."

Dean grits his teeth, though he sees the sense in Bobby's words. He walks past Bobby, perhaps a bit more roughly than he intended, but fuck if he was going to stop walking now that he had finally forced himself to move away from Sam.

Dean chooses the room closest to the panic room. He lies awake for three hours listening to the sounds of Sam's erratic breathing. Close to dawn, Dean finally manages to fall into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Sam twitches on his cot, Dean's presence outside his room like a favorite blanket that's been dipped in water. Sam's angry. Thoughts of revenge and finding a way out of his cell rush through his mind periodically, but they never stay. Sometimes there's confusion. Mostly, Sam feels fear. He isn't sure what he's more afraid of. Being stuck in here, and not getting his demon blood, or escaping and getting his fix, only to have Dean tell him again that he didn't care anymore. Because while Sam might be in horrible pain without the demon blood, if he had to see Dean ever look at him with that little emotion in his eyes again, it might kill him.

Sam wants to yell at Dean, scream at him that Sam's done all this for him. But when anger gives way to weariness, Sam admits that all he really wants is for Dean to smile at him again, to hold him like he's the most precious being on the planet. All Sam really wants is for things to go back to the way they were, to perhaps rewind to back when Jake had killed him, to have more thoroughly knocked him out, so Jake never could have killed him, never could have opened the damn devil's gate. If Dean had never gone to hell, if Sam had never died, none of this would have ever happened. Right now they could just be in their car together, listening to bad music, or be on a hunt together, or maybe even be on vacation, perhaps in a little cottage near the beach. Dean always said he liked the water.

Sam just wants to be himself again. Whether or not he's willing to admit it to Dean, Sam knows that he's changed. And he doesn't like it. He just did it because he thought if he did, he could save Dean, and then they could just go back. But Sam realized something, sweating there on the cot. They could never go back. Never. Dean had been destroyed and Sam had been destroyed and how they hell were they supposed to come back from that? How could they go from Dean's dead-eyed stare creepily reminiscent of Castiel towards him, back to laughing at each other and playing pranks in the Impala?

It is these thoughts that scare Sam the most, lying there with tears soaking his pillow. The idea that his brother might be lost to him forever.

Sam can feel his brother leave more than he can hear Bobby come and get him. Sam rolls over in his cot, whimpering Dean's name. And perhaps he does that a little manipulatively, hoping Dean will hear and be unable to resist coming in and comforting Sam, though Sam's not sure if he wants that more so he can escape, or more so that he can have confirmation that Dean still lo—cares.

But Dean doesn't hear him, and so Sam never gets to find out what path he might have chosen.

* * *

Day five, and Dean feels like he's suffering withdrawal symptoms of his own. He hasn't seen or been near his brother for days. Bobby has banned him from going to see Sam, going to far as to triple and quadruple lock the basement door, and not leaving Dean alone long enough to try and figure out a way past it. Not that Dean would have tried. Of course.

After each time Bobby takes food to Sam, Dean barrages him with questions about how Sam's doing, and so far, Bobby's only response? "He's dealing." What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? Dealing as in lost your wallet dealing, or dealing as in lost your girlfriend dealing?

Castiel shows up on day eight, to warn them that there are only six seals left. Dean responds with a punch to the face which hurts him more than Castiel, but is satisfying enough. Castiel leaves without bothering to ask about Sam, or even look Dean in the eye.

Day fourteen, and Bobby's bought some sedatives, because Sam won't stop crashing around the panic room at all hours of the day, completely hyperventilating. "He'll hurt himself," Bobby reasons, loading up a syringe full of yellow sedative. Dean has to resist telling Bobby that if he shoots that shit into his brother, the next place it'll visit will be up his ass.

As it is, Dean refuses to hold Sam down so Bobby can administer it to him. Bobby yells himself hoarse, but Dean ignores him and runs out to his Impala, trying to relax with a long drive.

One hour later, Dean's back. The ride did not help, simply made him long to have Sam in the passenger's seat.

"You done with your little temper tantrum?" Bobby asks calmly, not looking up from his book. "You ready to help me help your little brother?"

Dean nods mutely, and Bobby somehow seems to see his response without looking at him, and he simply grabs the syringe and proceeds down to the basement.

Seeing Sam is like a punch to the gut. Sam looks terrible. He has bags under his eyes, and his skin is a faint yellow color, which skin should never, never be. He's gone from being tall and lanky to being all skin and bones. Dean notices most of the food has gone uneaten and is rotting around the cell.

Sam is standing in the middle of his cell, and the moment they enter, he launches himself at them. He's stronger than he looks, but Dean is able hold him down fairly easily and Bobby shoots him full of sedative. A couple of moments later, and Sam is lying limply in Dean's arms. Dean's hold shifts from being one of constraint until he's gently cradling his brother in his arms. Bobby leaves him be while he picks up the rotten food lying around the room, shoving it into a trash bag.

Once the room is clean, Bobby stands at the door of the cell. "Dean," he says sadly.

Dean ignores him, gently pushing the long, shaggy hair off of Sam's forehead. Bobby sighs in defeat.

"Tonight," he says. "Just tonight. I want you back in your own room by seven A.M. tomorrow."

Dean continues to ignore him, pressing his forehead against Sam's. Bobby sighs again and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Dean relaxes against the wall, still holding Sam tightly, and he realizes that he hasn't felt this relaxed in a very long time. Something about being able to hold Sam, to let his brother know how much he l-cares, it just feels right. Dean pulls him closer, and relaxes completely.

* * *

It's enough to see Dean, even if Dean's just holding him down to allow Bobby to drug him. But the sedative doesn't completely knock Sam out. He can't really move or do anything, but he had just woken up from a long sleep when Dean and Bobby decided to drug him, so he's strong enough to stay awake, even though his eyes are closed.

Sam keeps expecting to feel Dean put him back on his bed, or perhaps just drop him and leave him on the floor. But Dean does neither of these things. Instead, he continues to hold him, stroking his hair gently off of his face. Sam isn't sure why he feels quite so relieved that he just recently took a shower (Bobby, with his great foresight, had connected a bathroom to the panic room a few months ago), but he does.

Sam hears Bobby start to leave, and if his heart was able to start pounding harder at that moment, it would have, when he heard Bobby imply that Dean would be staying with him all night. Sam feels Dean's body relax when Bobby leaves, even as his arms curl more tightly around Sam.

This…this Sam could deal with. Though Bobby and Dean didn't know this, they could have gotten Sam to stay still without the sedatives if he'd known he would get to spend time with Dean's arms wrapped around him. Of course, Dean had to go and ruin it all by talking. Sam sometimes isn't sure why he lo—cares so much about Dean when every time Dean opens his mouth lately, Sam just wants to punch him.

"You know, Sam," Dean begins, and Sam can feel him swallow. "When Dad told me I might have to kill you one day, I was so convinced that he was crazy. I could never bring myself to kill you." Dean gives a short, harsh laugh. "I thought I would never feel driven to that. Nothing that you could do would ever make me want to kill you. But I wasn't thinking about it right. I was thinking about the big stuff. Trying to picture you becoming a killer, it was just so ludicrous. So I dismissed it, and convinced myself I could bring you back from anything. Anything at all. I just…I never thought it would be like this. I never thought it would be so slow, so _deep_. I thought it would be a surface thing, something like possession, that I could pull you back from. I never really thought that_ you_ would be evil. I thought it would be some evil thing taking over you. And now I…." Sam can feel tears on his face, and it takes him a moment to realize that they aren't his. They're Dean's. "Sammy…I don't know what to do. I don't freakin' know what to do! You're still…you're my brother. What the hell am I supposed to do without you? You're still my responsibility. You will be as long as I'm alive. Sammy…how do I save you? How can I save you from you? Because god knows I still can't imagine killing you. I'd sooner put a bullet in my own brain before I'd put one in yours. Sammy…."

Dean's clutching him now and weeping, and the bad part of Sam, the part that would have laughed inwardly at Dean's weakness…that part is dying now. Dying, as the demon blood is flushing out of his system. Sam wants to sit up, more than anything else in the world, he wants to sit up and tell Dean that it is surface, that he's still here, he'll always be here, it was just the demon blood making him act like that. But even as the fantasy forms in his head, Sam's pushing it away. Because he knows it isn't true. It _wasn't_ just the demon blood. It was the power. Sam had tasted it, and he liked it. Liked it so much he wasn't willing to let it go. He had to be forced from it. Forced by the one person in this world whose approval he actually cared about.

Dean's quiet now as he picks up Sam and carries him over to the cot and lays him down on it before settling down right next to him. The cot isn't really made for two people, especially not two full grown men, but Dean pulls Sam close and half on top of him, and they make it work.

Sam lays with his head on Dean's chest, and is able to let go enough to fall asleep listening to the sound of Dean's heartbeat. And in reality, including Ruby's blood, he really can't think of anything else he wanted more in that moment than Dean's arms around him, and the words of Dean's love echoing in his head.

**A/N:** This was my way of making myself feel better after last night's heart breaking episode and even more heart breaking previews. Shall I continue it? Adios!

-CatJetRat


End file.
